77 Prompts
by Live.Laugh.Love.Listen.Music
Summary: My response to Beeabeeon49's 77 prompt challenge. There are 77 prompts and 77 chapters. Different pairings, different eras, different genres. Prompt 9: Once in a lifetime. Character; Remus Lupin
1. Prompt 1: Gold

**This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though! **

**Prompt 1. Gold**

**Characters: James Potter and Lily Evans**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.**

James Potter was looking at his left hand. It was nice enough, he decided; tanned from playing Quidditch all summer, longish fingers, the occasional scar. Nothing out of the ordinary – at least, not to any casual bystander there wasn't. But to James, today this hand had become special, and it would be special for the rest of his life. This sudden change in regard to his feelings towards his left hand were due mainly to his fourth finger, as that finger now held the most important symbol in his life: a ring.

It was beautiful thing, this ring, in image and in meaning. It was a simple band of gold, polished so it gleamed. With every movement of his hand, the ring caught the light, winking merrily at him. On the inside of the band, not visible but still there, was etched a lily.

It meant so much to him, this little golden ring. It was proof – undeniable, irrefutable proof that his wonderful, beautiful, darling Lily had said yes. Yes to him, the one she had only three years ago despised, the one she would have chosen the Giant Squid over, the one who had infuriated her to the point of hatred, the one who had never given up trying, the one who loved Lily more than anything in the world, the one who would give up everything for her. Her words, the two most beautiful words he had ever heard, _'I do'_ repeated themselves over and over in his mind, creating a smile almost as golden as the ring he treasured.

The golden circle foretold their future together: whatever would happen, be it good, bad or evil, would not be able to break this tie between them. They were married, they were together, forever.

James still found it hard to believe that he was married, that the beautiful ring actually symbolised his wedding. One hour ago he had been James Potter, a fiancé, and now he was James Potter, a husband! It was unbelievable but it just felt _right._ It seemed like all his life had been leading up to this occasion. Every path he had trodden, every moment, after seeing _her_ on the train for the first time, had lead to this point.

A hand came to rest upon his, one more slender, more graceful, with rounded nails and creamy skin. Upon this hand sat another ring and was, like the hand it now belonged to, smaller and more elegant than James'. James looked up and met the eyes of the woman who had made him happier than anyone who had or would ever live. Lily smiled at him and it was like the sun had come out on a day that was already glowing. She intertwined their fingers and simply beamed at him, letting the sparkle in her eyes and the joy on her face tell him how happy she was.

James raised their interlocked hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to each ring. "I love you."

Her smile, if possible, grew wider. "I love you too."

And for a moment, they sat, absorbed in each other, a world away from anything outside their golden bubble of happiness. They each knew that the moment would end, that they would have to leave this happy summer afternoon and go back to the terror of the war which they both fought in: they would have to immerse themselves in the knowledge that one false move, one bad decision could tear them apart. But for this one, golden moment, all was well.

**Chapter one! Reviews are always welcome and replied to. **

**Oh, and for readers of my story Goddess in Disguise, I have reposted chapter three with some changes – the chapter flows better and makes more sense. Enjoy!**


	2. Prompt 2 : Devils

**This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, and different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though! **

**Prompt 2. Devils**

**Characters: Robert McGonagall, Isobel McGonagall and Minerva McGonagall**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.**

"You... you lie!" Robert McGonagall spluttered, astonished that his wife would say such a thing. There was no way his wife could possibly be telling the truth. She was joking surely, a clever practical joke. Because there was no way what she was telling was the truth, there was no way such a thing could be possible, and no way that she could possibly be a witch!

"Robert, my love, please believe me! I am a witch! I have magic" Isobel McGonagall pleaded, her hands outstretched beseechingly. "I would never lie to you!"

"You are a liar! You are not a witch! It is not possible!" Robert felt his heartstrings tear. He had never thought his Isobel would lie to him, and here she was, proclaiming that she was a witch! What had happened to the woman he married, he wondered. Where was the straightforward, honest woman who had captured his heart? His Isobel would never behave in such a manner. Robert tried to calm his racing heart, to rectify the situation. Isobel had obviously been taken ill – he would summon the doctor immediately and have him calm the fever that raged hot enough to twist her mind into believing such nonsense.

"Robert, please! I -" Robert cut off his wife, moving forward to cup her face. Her eyes lit up with hope – she thought he believed her.

"Isobel, my sweet, I will call the doctor. You have been taken ill. Do not worry; I will make it better for you." Hope dropped off of Isobel's face, to be replaced by mixed fury and desperation.

"I am in perfect health Robert! There is nothing wrong with me! I am a witch!"

"No, darling, you are not. It is just a side effect of your fever; you are hallucinating."

"I am not! I am a witch, and so is your daughter!" Isobel pointed over to the highchair, where one year old baby Minerva was cooing quietly, dark curls contrasting with flushed cheeks.

"Now Isobel, do not bring Minerva into this. She-"

It was Isobel's turn to interrupt. "She is a witch! As am I! Let me prove it too you!"

Robert raised an eyebrow. His wife's fever must be worse than he had thought. However, there seemed no harm in letting Isobel 'prove herself'. It would calm her enough for Robert to leave to fetch the doctor. He stood back, and nodded his permission.

However, instead of cackling and sprouting nonsense words like 'Abracadabra', Isobel turned and began to search under the bed. A moment later, she righted herself, carrying a dust covered wooded box. Despite himself, Robert found himself leaning in: he had never seen this box in all their married life.

Isobel blew the dust off the lid and little Minerva laughed in delight as the swirling particles danced in the sunlight. She opened the box, pulling out a roll of rich red velvet. Robert felt his curiosity rise. Isobel unwrapped the velvet to reveal... a stick.

Robert had to restrain himself frowning: he kept his face expressionless. It would seem his Isobel had been living this delusion for a while, to have what she obviously thought was a magic wand gathering dust under the bed. Maybe the village doctor was not appropriate - a hospital would be better.

Isobel raise the stick with an expression of reverence on her face, which deeply unsettled Robert. Magic was evil, satanic – the Bible was clear on that, and the McGonagall family were devout Christians. Any worship to magic was a sign of the devil. Maybe he was wrong about the hospital – Isobel needed a soul saving session in the church.

Isobel took a deep breath, and said loud, clear voice,_ "Avifors!" _And to Robert's shock, the pile of books on his desk transformed in front of his eyes to a flock of starlings.

The room fell silent. Robert stared at what was once his copy of the New Testament in shock. Isobel had fallen silent, and was watching him warily. Even Minerva had stopped cooing, and was watching the birds with a look of fascination on her little face. Robert's mind was blank. His... his wife... his books...magic... His eyes suddenly went wide; his back snapped straight. His wife was a witch!

"Devil!" He gasped, staggering away from Isobel. His wife was a devil! A Satanist!

"Robert! No!" She moved towards him, tears falling down her cheeks. His hand found the cross around his neck; he thrust it forward. "Stay back, devil!"

"I am not a devil Robert! I am your wife! Do not-"

"No!" Robert roared. "Seductress! Satanist!"

Isobel fell silent, tears streaming down her face. "I am still the woman you love Robert. I only show you the gifts I was born with." At the word 'birth', a horrible thought occurred to Robert. He turned to Minerva, his darling baby girl, half expecting her to by cloaked in black. As if on cue, Minerva's doll changed before his eyes into a stuffed bird – a plush version of what his wife had just turned his books into. Robert felt his knees buckle. His daughter's face lit up with delight as she hugged her new toy. "Devils," He gasped, "My family are devils." Robert fainted.

**Chapter 2! I feel kind of obliged to tell you that Robert's views are not my own. Reviews are always welcome and responded to. I hope you liked this chapter!**


	3. Prompt 3: Cold as Ice

**This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though! **

**Prompt 3. Cold as Ice**

**Characters: Harry Potter and Hermione Granger**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.**

Harry woke suddenly, as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. He knew the feeling well: Dudley had done it several times during his youth on Privet Drive. An unexpected wave of nostalgia washed through him, thinking of his life on Privet Drive. He was treated like dirt, true, but at least he was warm! And fed! Harry couldn't remember his last decent size meal. Time seemed to have lost all meaning; the world outside was far away as his parents.

All he knew it had been about two weeks since He left: two weeks of silence; of longing glances over shoulders for the one he loved like a brother; two weeks of misery. Harry did not know how many times he had thought of Him since He had left. Whatever number it had reached, as high as it was, would be nowhere near Hermione's total.

Hermione. Harry's forehead creased. Where was she? In the dim morning light, she could be anywhere. From his place on his bunk, he could see she was not in her bed, or curled up in one of the armchairs. He twisted in his bunk, looking towards the tent entrance. He couldn't see the shadow cast by Hermione if she were keeping watch. Face taunt with worry, Harry slipped out of his bunk, hand tight around his wand. He winced as his bare feet made contact with the floor: it was as cold as ice.

"_Lumos_," He whispered. Light flooded the tent, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He pulled on his trainers, straining his ears. He couldn't hear anything. He crept towards the tent entrance, peaking out into the dawn. He couldn't see anything from his limited viewpoint. Still making sure to be as quite as possible, he stepped into the morning light.

It was even colder out here. They were camped somewhere in North Wales and Harry was colder than he had ever been in his life. It had rained continuously over the last two days – Hermione had judged the site deserted enough for them to stay here for more than 24 hours – and Harry had wrongly hoped that it would be better if the rain stopped. He was wrong.

The rain had frozen overnight, bringing the temperature down even further and making all journey's outside the tent treacherous. Harry glanced around him, taking in the wide open skied, pained the palest pink in the morning light. He suddenly caught sight of a figure sitting maybe half a mile away from the tent, outlined against the sky. He instantly knew it was Hermione. Silently thanking whatever deity was listening; Harry made his way over the icy ground, taking care not to fall.

He wondered what had made Hermione go so far away. With only the two of them, solitude was not that hard to find. His hand grazed his neck: he was not wearing the locket. Knowing that whatever desperate thoughts were being amplified by the Horcrux around her neck, Harry sped up.

When he finally reached her, Harry took a moment to really look at Hermione. Shadows the size of thunder clouds rested under her eyes and she had lost a lot of weight: her clothes hung off her and her cheeks were sunken and pale. Harry sat down beside her and grimaced as the wetness of the ground soaked his jeans. Hermione, who had been sitting their much longer, was sopping wet.

She didn't look around when Harry joined her on the ground: her eyes stayed fixed on the middle distance, slightly unfocused. The locket's chain was visible on her throat. Harry reached out a hesitant hand, tanking and holding Hermione's hand. Her skin was as cold as ice.

"Hermione?" Harry said tentatively. For a moment it was like she hadn't heard him, then she shook her head as if clearing it, and turned to face him.

"Harry." Her smile was nothing like it should be: only a faint twitch of her pale lips compared to the usual wide smile.

"Are you... okay?" Even as Harry said the words, he knew the answer.

"Is anyone okay anymore?" Her smile lasted slightly longer this time, and Harry felt his spirits lift slightly. As long as they had each other, they would make it.

"Have you been out here long?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Hermione's indifference scared Harry more than he like to think. Hermione was his rock, his foundations. If the hunt wore her down, Harry didn't like to think about what would happen to him.

"It's really cold."

"I know. Like ice. Why are we in Wales again? Why couldn't You-Know-Who have a fondness for the south of France?" Harry burst out laughing, and Hermione joined in. He didn't know how long they laughed for, but the hills echoed with the sound long after they had finished. Harry squeezed Hermione's hand. It was still cold, but as ice-like as it had been.

Harry smiled.

**Chapter 3! I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome and replied to.**


	4. Prompt 4: Warmth

**This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though! **

**Prompt 4. Warmth**

**Characters: Teddy Lupin**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.**

Teddy waited, listening, barely breathing. It was New Years Eve, about half an hour before the New Year. Teddy wasn't that excited about it. It was only a new year, after all. What made it so special? It was just like any other year. Soon enough, all the grownups would be complaining that it was a horrible year and so stressful. What was the point of getting excited about something that would be stressful?

Grandma had fallen asleep on the sofa – silly Grandma! – and Teddy wanted to make sure she was really fast asleep before he made his move. She was breathing slowly and snoring in the way only Grandma snored. She called it ladylike. Teddy called it piggylike.

Teddy turned around and tiptoed upstairs, avoiding the creaky bits. His hair turned from bright gold – Harry said he should choose a bright colour for holidays like this – to honey brown as he concentrated. In that moment, Teddy looked very much like his Dad.

Slowly and carefully, he made his way into Grandma's room. It was dark in here: the curtains were drawn. Teddy made his way quietly across to his target: his Grandma's bed. Walking around to her side, he crawled under the bed and pulled out a cardboard box. Holding his breath, he lifted the lid and pulled out the object on the top: a photo album.

Teddy replaced the box under the bed, and clambered up into Grandma's bed. He turned on the lamp, and spent a moment just looking at the cover of the album. It was colourful, jigsaw pattern, with smiles and teddies. Teddy wrapped the duvet closer around him and opened the album. On the inside cover, scrawled in faded but still working colour changing ink, were the words:

'_To our wonderful son, Teddy Lupin, with love, Mummy and Daddy'_

Then underneath, in brackets and written in far neater writing, was the words:

'(Nymphadora and Remus Lupin)'

And below that:

'DON'T CALL ME NYMPHADORA!'

Teddy ran his fingers over the old words, knowing his mummy and daddy had once written them. It made him kind of sad, but there was a kind of warmth in his chest (Harry would say his heart) that made him feel very confused. Teddy did not know if he wanted to laugh or to cry.

These little words were proof his mummy and daddy were actually there. Harry and Grandma and Ginny and all of his big family said how nice and good and brave his mummy and daddy were, but it didn't meant that much to Teddy. These words were proof that mummy and daddy loved him, and as Teddy began to look through the album, the warm feeling in his chest got bigger even as he started to cry.

Teddy traced his fingers of the captions of each photo, smiling and crying at the same time. He felt warm and sad at the same time. The photos were all of his mummy and daddy and him, all smiling and laughing and waving. His mummy had bright hair too and Teddy turned his hair pink to match. He looked a lot like his daddy too; Teddy smiled the same way as his daddy did.

Teddy closed the photo album and hugged it close. The warm feeling was still there.

**Chapter 4! Reviews are welcome and replied to!**


	5. Prompt 5: Light and Dark

**This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though!**

**Prompt 5: Light and Dark**

**Characters: Andromeda Black, Bellatrix Black, Narcissa Black **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.**

Standing with her sisters, Andromeda sometimes felt like she was in an old Muggle photo – though her parents would thrash her if they knew she knew what one was. There was no other colour for her sisters, just light and dark.

Bellatrix was all dark: dark hair, dark clothes, dark lashes, dark eyes, _dark expression._ But it wasn't just her image that was dark – there was darkness inside her, flowing through her veins, seeping out of her pours and poisoning the air around her. She was like a thunder cloud, tearing through life with a roar and leaving a trail of destruction behind her. Bellatrix scared Andromeda: looking into those black eyes she knew what horrors her sister was capable of. She was a thing of nightmares - something a small child would visualise under their bed.

Narcissa on the other hand... Narcissa was light, from her light hair to her light skin. In her white wedding robes, even paler than usual due to her nervousness, Narcissa looked like one of the Hogwarts ghosts, her hair pouring like a river of white gold down her back. She floated around, never speaking, totally washed away by Bellatrix's commanding presence.

But for all their differences, her sisters shared one thing: they were adored. The Black family loved them, or felt for them in whatever way they could with their dark, twisted hearts. Bellatrix was her father's joy, the son he had never manage to sire, a follower of the Lord her family idolised. Narcissa was her mother's pride: beautiful and elegant; aloof and the perfect daughter. Her marriage into the Malfoy family, and Bellatrix's union to the Lestranges just cemented her parent's adoration.

But where did that leave Andromeda? She wasn't dark Bellatrix or light Narcissa. She was just Andromeda, the middle sister, the one too light to be dark and too dark to be light. Her hair wasn't Bellatrix's black or Narcissa's light. Her disposition wasn't dark like Bellatrix or light like Narcissa. Standing between them, she was noticed less than the House – Elf in the corner.

Even her life was dark and light: a monotone. Endless formal occasions: having to prove that she was worth the purity of the blood that ran through her veins; to prove that she was the perfect scion of the house of Black. Dull people, dull occasions, all flat black and white.

And then she met Ted. He was so colourful, an explosion in her world of light and dark. It didn't matter that he was a Mudblood, that she had been raised to despise his kind. He broke up her monotone of a life, splattered colour on the blank pages of the book of her existence. It wasn't just light and dark, black and white anymore. There was colour, there was laughter, there was a flush on her cheeks and a flower in her hair and Ted's pink lips on hers.

She knew her family's reaction would be severe. She knew she would be disowned. But it didn't matter. Her life was no longer light and dark: it was a plethora of colours and she loved it.

**Prompt 5! There were a few grammar mistakes so I redid this chapter. **


	6. Prompt 6: Help

**This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though! **

**Prompt 6. Help**

**Characters: Arianna Dumbledore**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.**

**Warning: Some Violence.**

Help.

Help me.

Help me _please._

They saw me. They saw me do magic.

Mummy and Daddy and Alby and Abie said I mustn't let the muggles see my magic. They said it was a secret and nobody could know, not even my friends in the village, Mary and Emma and Margaret. I was special and they wouldn't understand. That's what I was told.

Mummy and Daddy and Alby and Abie are special too. Mummy and Daddy have magic wands and they look like sticks but really they are very very special. Mummy uses hers to magic away the dirty plates, and Daddy makes flowers appear and he puts them in my hair and I feel like a princess! Alby and Abie don't have wands yet but Alby will get one next year when he goes to Hog... Hogwash...Hoshwart... I can't remember the name but it is a magic school for special people to learn magic! Daddy says Alby is extra special because he can control his magic. I can't do it that well and sometimes I have accidents like making my teddy fly or making the branches with the really juicy berries bend a little further down.

Abie is bad at controlling magic too, so I'm not the only one. But Abie is really really good with the goats and sometimes he lets me feed them with him and it's really good fun. I think Abie is my favourite brother.

I can remember I was out in the garden picking flowers. I liked to make chains with the daisies and put them around the nana goat's neck. The sun was shining and my birthday was only a week away and I was wearing my favourite blue dress. I was so happy!

I can remember my magic bubbling just below the surface. I looked around and nobody was in the garden so with I used the small control I had with my magic. All the daisies in my lap lifted up and made an amazing daisy chain which twirled and spun around my head and landed on my head like a crown. I can remember laughing.

And then there was rustling. Three boys burst out of the hedge and I knew them. It was Tommy and William and John from the village and they were _muggles._

"What was that?" Tommy asked, "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did. How did you do that!"

"I didn't do anything! I didn't do anything!"

"Tell us how you did it! Tell us!"

"No! I didn't do anything. I- Let go of me!"

"Tell us! Tell us now!"

"You're hurting me! Stop it! Let go!"

"No!"

"Don't hit me!"

"Freak! How do you do that?"

"Help! Help me!"

**Ariana Dumbledore was six years old when those muggles saw her doing magic. They attacked her and beat her up, basically, and she never recovered.**


	7. Prompt 7: Broken

**This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though! **

**Prompt 7. Broken**

**Characters: Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody; Poppy Pomfrey**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.**

"It's broken, I'm afraid, Mr Moody," Madam Marr said, examining the little slip of parchment in her hand. Seventeen-year-old Alastor groaned – part through annoyance, part through pain – and let his head flop back against the pillow. He had been afraid of that. The pain in his leg was excruciating.

"Don't you groan at me young man! Why the cheek of young people today! In my day, if I had ever groaned at a member of Hogwarts' staff I would have been given a swift smack on the backside. My, oh, my-"

"Are you sure it's broken?" Alastor interrupted before Madam Marr could lecture his ears off his head and onto the floor.

"Am I – _Am I sure_?" Madam Marr seemed to swell in her indignation. "Well! The cheek! If I were to ask the Hogwarts Matron about her diagnosis I would have been cuffed around the head! The nerve of you!"

" Sorry, Madam Marr," Alastor replied, before his ears could soak through the floor and drip into the corridor below.

"You had better be, Mr Moody! I have a mind to complain to your Head of Year. Discipline was worth its salt in my day. Well, now, Mr Moody, I shall answer your obnoxious question. Your leg is broken in two places; I cannot imagine what impetuous decision had you attempting to _climb the castle walls! _Now, I shall go and fetch Miss Archambeau to dose you with healing potions. That girl is far too lazy for her own good; hard work is the only cure for_ that_ affliction."

Still grumbling, Madam Marr turned on her heel and strode away to the healer's office. Alastor leant back on his pillows, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his leg. This proved easier than expected; Miss Archambeau now occupied his mind. His darling flower. Trying to impress her with his strength and bravery (because that was what attracted women, obviously) he had attempted to climb up the outside of the castle and climb through her bedroom window. The rose held in his mouth added romance, which women apparently enjoyed. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to take the thorns off the rose and in attempting to do so, he let go of his handholds and fell about twelve feet.

Well, romance was painful.

The opening of the door caught Alastor's attention; he fixed his most dashing smile on his face as Poppy Archambeau, healer-in-training, crossed the room to his side. She was older than he was, already mid-way through her training as a healer. It was with practiced efficiency that she deposited a tray of bottles on his bedside table and began to measure out doses. Alastor became frustrated very quickly when she didn't greet him, or congratulate his bravery, or his resistance to pain.

"You are looking particularly fine this evening, Madam Archambeau. The blue of your nightdress contrasts wonderfully with the-"

"Open up please, Mr Moody." Alastor stopped talking, stung by her indifference, but did as he was told, hoping his obedience would stir her compassion. He swallowed each mouthful dutifully, not even complaining at their hideous taste. He looked at her carefully – as he always did – and noticed the almost imperceptible glances of annoyance she sent his way.

"You aren't very happy with me," he offered.

"No," she replied, finally showing her irritation openly. "What possessed you to climb the castle walls?"

"You did," he smiled – romance books told him women liked grand gestures and feats of bravery. She would be hugging his knees in under a minute, he guessed. Her response caught him by surprise.

"You are a fool. I have told you repeatedly that I don't return your interest. It is time for you to stop following me." Her words slapped Alastor in the face. He gaped at her.

"And even if your utter lack of self preservation and failure to understand the word 'no' did not turn me away, _this _would." She reached into the neck of her blouse to pull out a necklace with a ring hanging from it. "I am engaged to be married. His name is Quincy Pomfrey." With that, she turned on her heel and marched away.

The memory of that simple ring on a golden chain hung before Alastor's eyes in the intervening hours. She was engaged. To a man called _Quincy_. She would never be his.

Was this what it was like to have a broken heart?

**Hello there! Long time no see!**

**My new-year resolution is to finish all my fanfictions, so hopefully you'll be seeing many more chapters in the next few months!**


	8. Prompt 8: Smile

**This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though! **

**Prompt 8: Smile**

**Characters: Rose Zeller**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.**

Rose Maia Allison Zeller was not a brave person. In fact, she preferred to stay hidden in the background. She liked to take the photos rather than be in them. Shy was an understatement; most people in her primary school didn't realise she was in their class. So to stand here, in front of hundreds of students all staring at her, was a kind of personal hell for her.

She didn't understand her cowardice. Her brothers, Aidan and Humphrey, were grinning up at her from the Gryffindor table. Her parents had sat at that table too. But not in her wildest dreams could Rose envision herself in the same house. While her family blazed through life, making impetuous decisions and doing risky things, Rose preferred to think things through and to wait to see the possible outcomes.

It didn't help that her middle name, Maia, meant 'brave warrior'. It was a lot to live up to, all together. She wasn't brave, she wasn't courageous, and she certainly wouldn't be in Gryffindor. She was certain about this.

What she wasn't certain about was her family's reaction. For generations, the Zeller family had been almost exclusively Gryffindor, in the same way that the Malfoy's were mostly Slytherin. Would she be a letdown? A disappointment?

This had worried her for weeks. In the weeks after her letter arrived in late May, she had grown steadily more worried. She was a worrier, not a warrior. Her parents and brothers had accounted this change in her usual sunny disposition to nerves, or fear of homesickness – and they weren't far from the truth. She was very nervous about going away, and was homesick before she had even left, but both of these paled into significance to her fear now.

"_Abercrombie, Euan!"_

Oh Merlin, they had started. She stared at the boy who stumbled forwards, who looked almost as terrified as she felt. Even his ears were quaking.

"_Gryffindor!" _The table on the far left burst in the cheers. Rose watched her brothers clapping vigorously.

This brought some comfort to Rose. If one terrified person got into Gryffindor, what was to say two couldn't? This spark of confidence helped Rose's knees shake a little less.

The Sorting seemed to fly by. Quickly, they sped through the B's and C's (Babbage, Biswell, Brown, Capper, Caville, Cuppitt), on through the J's (Jagger and Jordan), passed the solitary P (Partridge) and into the latter half of the Alphabet. Rose would almost undoubtedly be last – how many surnames beginning in Z could there be in a group of fortyish? – and this was a blessing and a curse. She very much wanted to hold this moment off for a while, but wanted it to be over.

Finally, it happened. _"Zeller, Rose!"_

She stumbled towards the tall, stern looking witch holding the Sorting Hat – Professor McGonagall. If all went well, she would be Rose's head of house.

She saw the eyes of every school child on her, before the Sorting Hat blocked her vision. This helped calm her a little.

"So, what do we have here?" She jumped; Rose had forgotten that the hat talked.

"Yes, my dear, I do talk." The voice sounded somewhere behind her ear. She wanted to reach up and rub it, to see if anything was there, before she realised the hat was magical and didn't just stick an ear-piece into each student.

"Hello, Mr Hat," she said quietly.

"Ah! A polite one, my favourite! You do know your manners and what else – Ah, determined to be a Gryffindor, I see, though for not the right reasons.

"It would make my family happy," Rose murmured.

"Yes, but you would not be happy, and that is what matters. You need to be with children similar to yourself. Gryffindor is definitely out; you have not the actions or reasons of a lion.

"What could I do to persuade you?" Rose thought desperately.

"How very Slytherin of you, Miss Zeller! But no, you aren't really Slytherin either. But your earlier statement, the one about making your family happy; that is the response a Hufflepuff would give."

Rose hadn't really considered Hufflepuff; her fear of not being put in Gryffindor had made prevented her from thinking about what would happen if she actually didn't make it.

"Do not think of Hufflepuff as a failure; Hufflepuffs are the least likely to fail, in the end. You are honest, patient. Your earlier statement shows selflessness, though you are not arrogant enough to believe it. Yes, Hufflepuff is the house for you, Miss Zeller."

Rose felt strangely light-headed. She had been _sorted_.

"Oh, and Miss Zeller? You were right in thinking no Zeller had been sorted into Hufflepuff; you are the first. You have nothing to live up to; you are free from the expectations you believe your family has set. You will set the standards of the Zeller Hufflepuffs. Spread your wings."

With that, the hat roared _"Hufflepuff!"_ The hat was pulled off her head, leaving her slightly disorientated in the glare of the light. At the Gryffindor table, her brothers were grinning and clapping as energetically as the Hufflepuffs – her new housemates – were. Rose felt the tension leave her, and a smile grow. Spread her wings.

She crossed the hall to the Hufflepuff table, smiling all the way.

**A rather lose interpretation of 'smile', but I had the idea and was intrigued. **


	9. Prompt 9: Once in a lifetime

**This is my entry for Beeabeeon49's prompt competition. There will be seventy seven chapters, all one shots, in no particular order, all with different lengths, different characters, different genres. I may not update this regularly as I have exams and several other ongoing fics. I will finish this though! **

**Prompt 9. Once in a lifetime**

**Characters: Remus Lupin**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything under the Harry Potter franchise. This is fan written for fans to read. No copywrite infringement intended.**

Remus Lupin sat down at the table in the small kitchen, morosely spooning his cereal. He didn't notice the worried looks this parents exchanged, or the slight tip of his mother's head; a signal to his father. _'You try and talk to him.'_

"Remmy, son," he began, reaching out to place his hand on his only child's shoulder.

"Yes Dad," he replied. His parents shared another glance. Even with his condition, Remus was a bubbly child. To see him so downcast was extremely unusual and never boded well.

"Remmy, just because the letter hasn't arrived yet doesn't mean it never will. Owls aren't always reliable, you know that."

"It won't come. They don't want me there." Remus' spoon hit the bottom of his bowl with a thump. His voice had risen, and his eyes filled with desperate tears. "I'm a werewolf! Why would they want me?"

Before his parents could respond with assurances that his lycanthropy shouldn't matter to him – it certainly didn't matter to them – and how nobody could ever dislike him once they knew what a kind and considerate boy he was (words Remus had heard far too many times, and had long stopped believeing) there was a brisk _knock knock_ on the front door.

"I wonder who that is," Remus' father said, confused, getting up and walking to the door.

"We aren't expecting anyone," Remus' mother called, "If it's the man from down the lane don't let him in; he's drunk half the time, and rude the rest!"

However, it wasn't the drunk from down the lane; nor was it the coalman, or the rubbish man, or the local policewoman _'wanting to find out more about the strange howling heard hereabouts'._ No, standing on the doorstep in emerald robes and a sharply pointed hat, with black hair pulled off a stern face and into a tight bun, was a witch and in one hand she held a letter.

"Professor McGonagall!" Remus' parents both exclaimed, suddenly feeling as if they were sixteen again and brought before the stern witch for a lecture and detention slip.

"Good Morning Janus, Diana," Minerva McGonagall replied, with a small smile, "Though there is no need to call me Professor; you have not been my students for over a decade now." She turned to Remus. "And you must be the young Mr Lupin. _You_ should call me Professor though; to practice for when you are in my classes."

"In your... In your classes! You mean..." Remus trailed off in disbelief as McGonagall reached into a pocket and withdrew an envelope made of fancy parchment, which she handed to Remus. He stroked the parchment reverently for a moment, then looked up to see McGonagall looking expectant and his parents beaming, looking quite close to tears. He opened the envelope and unfolded the pieces of parchment inside.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL _

_of WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorc.; Chf Warlock; _

_Supreme Mugwump; International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Lupin,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1__st__ of September. We await your owl by no later than 31__st__ of July._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

The second sheet of parchment held a list of equipment, which Remus scanned through eagerly. Robes, books... a wand! This was unbelievable!

"I'm really going? I can't believe it!" He said, jumping up and down with excitement. Then, suddenly, his jubilance vanished. "But... but my condition," he said, looking directly at McGonagall. "What about my condition. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You shall not hurt anyone, Mr Lupin. We have created measures to prevent such, which I shall explain momentarily. I do not need to explain that, however, if there is an accident and another student were harmed, you would most likely be expelled."

"I have one chance," Remus summarised, before breaking into a huge grin. He was going to Hogwarts!


End file.
